


Film on Loop

by gaypilots (tofallinlovewithafridge)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Candy Shop AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofallinlovewithafridge/pseuds/gaypilots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean works job-to-job, meandering his way across the States. His brother's at college, his dad's in South Dakota- or, he was last time Dean checked- and Dean works alone, never stays too long in one place. Things begin to change when he applies to work in Just Desserts, a candy shop in a town in Texas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Film on Loop

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dean/Gabriel mini bang  
> Beta'ed by tom-fletchers-booty, with art by kymericl
> 
> You can find the masterpost for this fic at hopesuffocating.livejounal.com and the art at kymericl.livejournal.com/37935.html#cutid1
> 
> I allow and encourage any and all kind of remixes, sequels, translations, podfics, fanvids, or any other kind of miscellaneous fanwork based on this [and, indeed, all my work]. If you link me to it, I'll put it on the masterpost.
> 
> All glory to tom-fletchers-booty, who beta'ed this, kymericl for the amazing artwork, scyllaya and moonbeamdancer for putting on the mini bang itself, Alice [pointlesspostits on tumblr] for encouraging me to sign up, and to my friend Adam for putting up with me having a freak-out about this and then writing 2000 words of it instead of entertaining him on a five-hour bus journey.

 He's working a job in Montana, behind the counter in an internet café, when he sees an advert.

This guy- Gabriel Milton, which, is that a pretentious name or what?- is offering a job behind the counter at his candy shop. Dean's halfway tempted- it's a _candy shop,_ after all- but it's down in Texas, and he's signed onto this job for another month and a half. 

He fires off an email anyway, because he's nothing if not an optimist- or, at least, determined. He explains the situation and attaches a copy of his CV. It's nothing he hasn't done before.

He doesn't know that he's just sent an email that will change his life.

* * *

  


Dean moves around a lot.

He was born in Kansas to John and Mary Winchester, growing up with the ideal, picket-fence life. When he was four, his parents brought Dean's baby brother home from the hospital.

“Say hello to Sammy,” Dean's mom had said.

“You gotta make sure he grows up big and strong like you,” Dean's dad had said.

Six months after that, Mary died in a house fire. Dean had carried Sam out of the burning building. Their dad had packed up everything they had left, strapped the boys into the back of his car, and left.

Dean's never really felt at home in one place- he feels more comfortable in the car, first his dad's and now his, than anywhere else. He grew up in the passenger seat, has spent more hours on the road than he can count. His car, his dad, his brother- the only constants in Dean's life for twenty years.

And then Sam moved out- or, well, left them, seeing as they didn't have anywhere to move out of- and Dean started seeing his dad less and less. Dad would sleep in his own car, or go to bars, or whatever. They started working separately, and Dean can't pinpoint the exact moment that he and his father stopped moving around together.

Last he knew, Dad was in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, with a family friend.

So Dean moves around on his own, going from state to state looking for odd jobs. He'll stay in the same place for a couple of months, working on a construction site, in a junkyard, coffee shop, bookshop, whatever he can get. He'll rent out an apartment or motel room, live out of a duffel bag, and move on when he's bored.

Sam's in California. He's pre-law at Stanford, with an apartment, and a girlfriend, and no clear psychological damage from their childhood.

Dean hasn't talked to Sam for about a year. He feels guilty about it- he'd always been close with Sammy, practically brought him up- but when Sam had left, it had felt like betrayal. Sam was leaving Dean behind. Sam didn't need him any more.

So yeah, maybe Dean's a little petty in his refusal to talk to Sam.

Dean's pretty sure Sam's just trying to forget about everything, and he can't blame him. Sam's moving on, starting his own life, as different to their childhood as possible.

Life on the road is all Dean's ever known, so he sticks with it.

But then he sees the advert.

* * *

  


Dean checks his emails again just before closing time, when the café’s empty and the streetlights outside are on. His supervisor flips the blinds down and the card in the front window to 'closed' as Dean logs in.

He finds a response from Milton, a calm response that tells Dean that they really need someone sooner rather than later, but there will be another opening once the tourists start arriving. Milton manages to make it sound friendly, rather than the hundreds of impersonal “thanks but no thanks” emails and letters and phone calls he's received, and Dean's impressed.

He adds 'gabriel@justdesserts.com' to his address book.

* * *

 

Dean gets an email from Milton just a week later, entitled “Update”. He raises his eyebrows as he opens it, already picturing the “we won't be needing you in the tourist season” message that he's sure is contained within.

Instead, he finds a chirpy email, telling him that Milton's still going to need the help in the summer, and asking how Dean's doing.

It's definitely a novel recruitment tactic. Dean's pretty sure that Milton's just keeping a polite rapport between them so Dean's more likely to take the job there when it opens- but, hey, at least he has an almost-guaranteed job for the summer, so that's good.

Dean fires off a polite response, making sure to highlight that he's good on the coffee machines- just in case.

* * *

 

When he receives 'Re: Re: Update' from Milton, sent at about two in the morning the day after Dean had responded, he begins to wonder- maybe this isn't purely professional.

This is confirmed when Dean opens the email, to find the simple line:  
“ _Come on, lighten up! This isn't an interview, this is a not-very-interesting guy emailing an interesting-sounding guy :)”_

  
Dean rolls his eyes at the emoticon, but hey, at least the dude isn't using text speak.

_"I was wondering. And which one of us is the not-very-interesting one?”_

Milton sends the response within ten minutes, and, for once, Dean's glad his shift is all day.

* * *

 

By closing time, Dean and Gabriel have exchanged more than seventy emails. Dean knows that Gabriel's from a large family, but most of them are high fliers as opposed to “lowly shopkeepers”, as Gabriel had put it. Gabriel describes the shop as “moderately successful”, and tells Dean about life in a small-town in Texas. Gabriel has a pet dog and drives a green VW Beetle. Dean also knows that Gabriel considers himself the 'not-very-interesting guy'.

Dean himself is intrigued. Gabriel had a relatively stable childhood, from what he can tell, has since moved away and only keeps in touch with a select few members of his family.

Gabriel just seems like a nice guy, with a great sense of humor and a taste for candy.

Dean's pretty sure he's made a friend and got a job in the same day.

* * *

  


By March, Dean's found a job in Kansas, working a small-time book store. His correspondence with Gabriel has been ongoing, if somewhat halting, as Dean's had to find different places to get an internet connection.

Gabriel's number is in Dean's phone, and his house address is scrawled in Dean's address book.

Dean finds it easy to talk to Gabriel- there's just something about Gabriel's way of thinking about things that speaks to him. Gabriel doesn't feel like a prospective employer to Dean- he feels like a close friend, the closest friend he's had since Sam left.

So, when Gabriel calls Dean from his office phone in mid-March, Dean's confused. When they talk on the phone- which, admittedly, is rare- it's from his mobile. A call from Gabriel's official, business-type phone is unheard of.

Dean's on break, and excuses himself from the break room and the conversation about baseball with his current co-worker, Ash.

“Gabriel?”

“Mr Winchester?”

It's definitely Gabriel. Even after only a handful of phone conversations, Dean could recognize that arrogant drawl anywhere.

“What?” Dean asks cautiously.

“Mr Winchester, my name's Gabriel Milton, I'm calling to offer you a job in my candy shop, Just Desserts.”

“No way!” Dean says, grinning and running a hand over his face.

“What do you say?” Gabriel says, his professional tone giving way to a more excited one.

“Hell yeah.” Dean responds. “When do I start?”

“When can you get here?”

 

* * *

 

Dean shows up outside Just Desserts, duffel bag in hand, less than twenty-four hours later. The Impala's parked a few streets away, and Dean's hoping he has enough money on his card to pay for a motel room before the money from his previous job comes through.

Dean makes sure to part with his previous boss on amiable terms, just in case Dean turns up there again at some point in the future. He'd already been there three months, was just a few days from having to renew his rent agreement for another month. The boss seemed to be a decent enough guy, and promised that Dean would be paid for his work within the next few days. Which is great, because otherwise, Dean's going to end up sleeping in his car for the next week.

As he walks down the street, Dean can guess which is Gabriel's shop. The façade is, of course, a bright purple, with 'Just Desserts' painted on what looks like a home-made sign, striped different colors and managing not to look tacky or cheap, just...

Unique is the word Dean's looking for, he thinks, and having been talking to Gabriel for the past five months, he's pretty sure that, yeah, unique is the nicest way of putting it.

It _is_ somewhat endearing, Dean has to admit, and he shoulders his duffel bag and heads towards the building.

He looks around as he walks in. The shop is small, L-shaped, and sells entirely home-made candy. Dean's kind of in awe, looking around at the truffles and pieces of fudge lining the walls. He takes a closer look, finding dark chocolate and orange liqueur truffles right next to white chocolate and cola.

As far as he can tell, there is no organization system further than fudge on one wall, truffles on the other.

There are a few people milling around, a kid reaching to try and grab some of the fudge on display on the counter as her mom buys a box of- pear cider truffles, _really_? Dean's not sure if Gabriel's a culinary genius, or just crazy.

The man behind the counter has bright blue eyes and a name-tag that reads 'Castiel'. He smiles politely at Dean as he approaches, all stubble and scruffy black hair.

“Hey,” Dean says, drumming his hands on the counter-top. “I'm here for Gabriel.”

“You must be Dean,” the man- Castiel, however the hell you say it- says, stepping away and gesturing for Dean to follow him. “He's in the kitchen.”

“Awesome,” Dean says, rocking back on his heels. He hasn't been this nervous about meeting a new boss for years- then again, Gabriel's more of a friend than anything else.

Dean finds himself being let behind the counter and ushered through the door, straight into a kitchen full of gleaming chromes and bright whites. Despite the intensely clean look, the room is warm, and smells of melting chocolate.

Gabriel's over in the far corner, facing away from Dean and wearing jeans and a shirt with a chef's hat placed jauntily on hair that's not quite brown, but not quite blond.

Dean totally wasn't just checking out his new boss slash internet friend.

He clears his throat, still stood in the doorway, and Gabriel spins around, teaspoon in one hand and a small bowl in the other.

“Dean!” he cries, dropping both items onto the counter and grinning.

The smile is infectious, and as Gabriel begins walking towards him, Dean smiles wider than he has for years. “In the flesh.” he says, spreading his arms wide.

“You're taller than I'd imagined.” Gabriel says, looking up and pulling Dean into a hug.

It's the first time he's hugged someone in a while. Dean will never admit that he likes the feeling of being close to someone like this.

Gabriel's kind of short, though, and the chef's hat is right in Dean's face.

“You're shorter than I'd imagined.” Dean responds, and Gabriel steps back.

“At least you're thinking about me,” Gabriel says, smiling and turning back to continue spreading white chocolate over the truffles. “Here, try one.”

“Seriously?” Dean asks, stepping over next to Gabriel and taking the proffered truffle.

“They're pretty good. Whiskey topped with white chocolate.”

Dean is skeptical, but his doubts vanish as he bites into the truffle and experiences a culinary orgasm. “Oh, my God,” he almost moans, knowing he's making whore noises and really not caring. “That's really fucking good. I'll take the job.”

Gabriel's eyes are golden and sparkling, and Dean hasn't smiled this wide for this long in years. Hell, he hasn't smiled this wide since Sam left.

Dean finishes the truffle in another bite and licks his fingers as he watches Gabriel artfully spread a little white chocolate on each of the truffle.

“Here, help me turn the tray,” Gabriel says once he's done. Dean's definitely not been staring at the quick, precise movements Gabriel's hands are making.

“Thought people are meant to wearing hairnets and stuff in here.” he says without thinking.

“I'm showing off. I look a lot better when I'm not wearing the apron and net.”

Dean laughs. “Oh, I get it, you're trying to impress me.”

“You bet.”

“So what am I meant to be doing?” Dean says, huffing out a laugh.

“You ever worked in a kitchen?”

“Yeah, a few times.”

“And you said you've worked construction?”

Dean looks around as Gabriel pushes himself away from the counter and heads into the storeroom next door. Dean looks around the cool room, painted bright pink and lined with floor to ceiling shelves full of ingredients and boxes labeled 'on order'.

“Yeah, I've worked construction.”

Gabriel spins around, pointing at Dean and grinning. “Okay, your official job description is 'at Gabriel's beck and call'.”

Dean smiles- honestly, he hasn't smiled this much in forever- and Gabriel's eyes twinkle as he spins back around, giving Dean a quick run down of the ingredients and how they're stored.

“So I'm basically a PA.” Dean says as they head back out of the storeroom.

“I prefer the term 'glamorous assistant'.” Gabriel corrects, sliding the full tray of truffles to Dean. “Now take these through to Cas.”

Dean isn't a clumsy guy- never has been- but he's acutely aware how easy it would be for him to drop the tray right now.

He wonders if Gabriel would be pissed off, or just laugh.

He manages to carry them through without incident, putting them down next to Castiel on the counter as he finishes with a customer.

“Got the white chocolate and whiskey truffles for you.”

“Can you put them out on display?” Castiel asks, smiling almost warily.

“I'm Gabriel's glamorous assistant, not yours.” Dean grumbles. “Where do they go?”

Castiel looks away, gesturing at the wall on his right. “Somewhere over there, I think. Gabriel moves them around to mess with me.”

That sounds like Gabriel, Dean thinks, leaving the tray of truffles on the counter and beginning to look for the right jar.

* * *

 

Dean spends the day being shown exactly how to do the things he needs to do. It's not impressive, or even new to him, but it does mean he gets to spend a lot of time with Gabriel.

They talk a lot about Dean's past- the jobs he's worked, the places he's visited- and a little about Gabriel's life. It turns out Castiel is Gabriel's half-brother- one of many, Gabriel says- who moved away from his parents and started working with Gabriel, about a year ago.

“Castiel doesn't have great people skills,” Gabriel says, flamboyantly chopping a block of fudge. “At least, not with new people. But I have enough charisma for the both of us.” he winks at Dean.

Gabriel knows enough about Dean's past to know the kinds of places that Dean stays in, but Gabriel still seems surprised at Dean's answer.

“I don't know,” Dean says, shrugging carelessly as he transfers cubes of fudge into boxes for a special order. “Probably my car.”

Gabriel spins on his heel, his apron fluttering. (Gabriel was right, Dean muses, the apron does look ridiculous, in an endearing kind of way.) “You're gonna come home with me.” he gestures between them with a rather large knife.

“I could stab you through the heart or something!” Dean says. “And anyway, I like to be wined and dined before I put out. I'm a classy chick.”

“Eh,” Gabriel says. “If you were gonna stab me, you'd have done it three hours ago with one of the kitchen knives. And are you implying that this,” he waves his arms at the tray of fudge in front of him, “isn't dining?”

Frankly, Dean's gone home with worse.

* * *

 

Gabriel's apartment is on the small side, furnished in creams and reds. Dean looks around as he enters, in awe of the huge bookshelves- two of them- along one wall, next to what is probably the biggest television screen he's ever seen.

"Home sweet home," Gabriel says, dropping his laptop bag on one of the huge leather sofas and bending down. "Heya, boy!"

Dean looks down to see a small, black and white terrier jumping at Gabriel's legs. Gabriel picks him up and introduces him as Stark- "like Iron Man!"- before putting him back down, letting Stark sniff at Dean.

"I get the feeling this dog is spoilt."

"You have no idea," Gabriel tells him, heading to the fridge. "Spare room's the door on the right, I'll hang around for a bit, then walk Stark, get out of your hair."

"Yeah, cheers," Dean says, still looking around. He's never had a place of his own- or, at least, not one that has a sense of permanence, or is even fully furnished.

And so what if it isn't technically Dean's own? He'll pay rent, he tells himself, even if it is technically still Gabriel paying.

Dean goes into the spare room, dropping his duffel on the floor next to him as he looks around. Desk, chair, wardrobe, bed, walls the same cream as in the living room.

Dean wonders if it would be rude not to unpack.

When Gabriel walks in, he's got spare bedding, a can of beer, and a half-full glass of red wine. He leans against the door as Dean takes the can, opening it with one hand as he grabs the bedding with the other. Gabriel leans against the door, opening his own can as Dean sits down on the bed.

“I'll warn you, I am kind of an asshole. Also, I watch a ridiculous amount of TV, and will make you watch it with me."

Dean looks up at him, and Gabriel shrugs.

"Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other," he said, grinning. “To quote BBC Sherlock.”

"Whatever," Dean responds. "I've never watched much TV."

Gabriel pushes himself away from the door. "We'll rectify this once I've walked Stark." He steps backwards out of the room, draining his glass and calling the dog, before leaning back into the room. "See you later," Gabriel says, winking lewdly.

Dean is still sat on his bed as the front door closes behind Gabriel.

"Huh," he says.

* * *

  


Dean's got an armful of dirty washing and absolutely no idea where the washing machine is. He could wait for Gabriel to come back, but he's been gone half an hour already, and the clothes that he's carrying have been kicking around the trunk of his car for days. He's a bit worried about intruding on Gabriel's privacy, but, man, he really needs that washing machine. He opens a promising-looking door with an elbow, looking in before stepping straight back out.

Dean takes a moment, shakes his head, then cautiously looks back in.

The room is bright, all off-white and bleached wood, apart from the huge four poster bed in the center. It's dark wood, covered in red sheets that might actually be silk. It's like the room was designed specifically for Gabriel to get laid in.

Dean thinks about it for a moment, and realizes that's actually quite likely.

He closes the door, shaking his head again and trying to dislodge the image of red silk sheets from his mind.

* * *

 

They fall into an easy routine- easier than Dean ever thought a routine with a person other than Sam would be- but it feels like Dean's known Gabriel for years.

He recognizes himself in Gabriel- the sense of humor, love for good, if not exactly healthy, food, and, when they've both had a few drinks, love for his family.

He also sees part of Sam in Gabriel, but he tries not to think about it.

Gabriel introduces him to the shows he likes, his friends, shows him how to cook something more than just microwaving a ready meal, or last nights' takeaway.

Dean finds himself more relaxed than he's pretty sure he has ever been. And, if, when he's in the shower, Dean sometimes thinks of a short man with golden eyes spread on silk sheets, it's no big deal. It's under control.

Dean's day normally starts off with Gabriel making entirely too much noise while he's feeding Stark. Dean will grunt, roll out of bed, and by the time he's out of the shower, Gabriel's normally made pancakes, or something equally unhealthy. Seriously, Dean could get used to this.

Once Gabriel's back from his quick walk with Stark, Dean's dressed- or, some semblance of dressed- and they head into town to open up shop. Cas will get in a while later, and they all have 'briefing', which is less a briefing and more just an excuse for Gabriel to sit down for a few minutes and have a coffee at the beginning of each day.

Dean will spend his day stocking shelves, manning the cash register, annoying Cas and sometimes Anna, Castiel's sister and the other, part-time, worker. Gabriel has, on occasion, let Dean try his hand at helping out in the kitchen. It's not much, just chopping glace cherries and the like, but Dean likes the excuse to talk to Gabriel.

Gabriel has a real sense of humor. It's not like Castiel's sense of humor, which is dry almost to the point of being British. It's not like Anna's sense of humor, which is rooted mainly in irony.

Dean just _gets_ Gabriel, better than he's ever understood anyone else, even Sam. He knows there are things Gabriel isn't showing, won't tell him, but he knows that there are things he isn't showing Gabriel, either.

It's just _easy_ , astoundingly so. Dean's normally bored with routine, but-

But before he knows it, he's been living and working with Gabriel for three months.

* * *

  


The longest that Dean's ever stayed in one place is five months. He's not exactly used to change, but he's not used to settling down. But he truly, honest-to-God, _likes_ it here. He likes the town, the shop, his room, and the people he's met. Gabriel has introduced him to his extended friend group- Kali, who Gabriel flirts outrageously with, and Baldur, her self-important boyfriend, as well as Balthazar, Castiel's boyfriend, and, of course, Anna. Dean has even met the shop's landlord, Zachariah, a balding middle-man and complete dick.

Dean's pretty sure that this is what constitutes Gabriel's family these days.

By what little Gabe has divulged- only when truly, heroically pissed- Gabriel doesn't really get along with his brothers and father. He loves them, sure, but doesn't talk to them. In fact, Gabriel will probably avoid talking to them at all costs, Dean thinks.

Gabriel hasn't mentioned his mom, and Dean isn't going to ask. He hopes Gabe will do the same for him.

Dean, for his part, doesn't talk about his family that much either. Gabriel knows that they've traveled around a lot, knows that Sam's at Stanford and, Dean's pretty sure, has figured out that although Dean talks to his father more, he's a lot closer to Sam.

Gabriel is, true to his word, kind of an asshole. He moves around the jars on display in the shop at seemingly random moments, without anyone seeing him do it. When he's feeling particularly aggravating, he offers to get coffee and then buys Dean one of the stupid, frothy, girly coffees that Sam always used to get, and laughs at Dean's face as he tastes pumpkin or some shit in what he expects to be black coffee. And Dean doesn't care what Gabe says, he knows all his light items of clothing went in the wash with Gabriel's _ridiculous_ bright red shirt on purpose.

Dean's not a stranger to a prank war, though. It started off innocently enough- shampoo bottles covered in soap with the lid glued down- and has since escalated to Gabe crushing laxatives into Dean's drink.

Dean started getting his own drinks from the fridge after that.

Gabriel is also a total nerd. Once he's introduced Dean to the BBC's adaptation of Sherlock Holmes, he moves onto Elementary, the American adaptation. He then starts Doctor Who- starting on the ninth Doctor, as the original series had Dean yawning- and Firefly.

(Dean loves Firefly. He's been a fan of westerns for as long as he can remember, and now a western set in space? It is everything Dean's ever wanted from a TV series- just, about five seasons too short.)

Gabriel describes Doctor Who and Firefly as 'gateway shows' into Battlestar Galactica, and Star Trek, and X Files. Dean draws the line at Knightrider.

They have movie nights, as well, Gabriel shows Dean some Marvel movies- parts of which he sometimes recognizes from nights spent on the move- and then some 80's classics. Films like Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, the Back To The Future trilogy- all things that completely passed Dean by.

As he told Gabriel, when these movies came out, they didn't go to the cinema just to _watch_ them. Dean's watched enough of these movies and shows to reference them, but it's only now that he really has the time, money, or _company_ , to want to watch them fully.

Tuesday is Dr Sexy day. Dean has watched Dr Sexy MD for years, whenever he can. Gabriel watches it too, and records it every Tuesday to watch on a Friday evening.

Dean used to go out every Friday night. Turns out Doctor Sexy is awful for his sex life.

So he stays at home, and watches Dr Sexy with Gabriel, and every time Dean manages to convince him to stay up a bit later, maybe re-watch an episode of Firefly.

For once, towards the end of June, it's Gabriel that insists they stay up a bit later. Dean's spent his day running deliveries into the storeroom, and he _hurts_ , but yeah, he could stay up for a bit.

So they make some popcorn, and watch Men in Black. Dean's laughing all the way through, Gabriel grinning like mad next to him, and they share a bowl of popcorn, because apparently not only is Dean's sex life dwindling, his manliness is as well.

Dean's feeling the kind of wide-awake you get when you're too tired to do anything else, so, when Gabriel suggests another movie once Men in Black is done, Dean says yes straight away.

Gabe, of course, being the asshole to end all assholes and knowing that Dean's shattered, picks Avatar.

* * *

 

Avatar is the longest movie Dean has ever seen. He feels like he's been watching it for weeks. And yeah, the effects are impressive and the storyline's compelling, but Dean is so tired. He's too tired.

Gabriel keeps fucking _poking_ him every time his eyes drift closed, and if he doesn't cut it out, Dean's gonna break Gabe's finger.

So Dean presses up against Gabriel's side, trapping his arm there, and then wraps his own arm around the shorter man, pinning down Gabriel's other arm.

“Hey, unfair!” Gabriel says once Dean is fully draped over him.

Dean mumbles something that might be “deal with it”, and is asleep within minutes.

When he wakes up, Gabriel's arm is free again, and there's this weird pressure on Dean's scalp. The credits are rolling, and Dean seems to have slid down Gabriel's body so his head is practically in Gabriel's lap.

Dean twitches, and the thing on his head moves.

When Gabriel pokes him in the back of the head, Dean realizes it was his hand.

“You,” Gabriel says, “are adorable.”

“Fuck off,” Dean moans, rolling off Gabriel's legs and rubbing his eyes. “'M way manlier than you.”

Gabriel awws. “You look like a stoned kitten,” he says, standing up and turning off the movie as he stretches.

“Your mom's a stoned kitten.” Dean tells him, very seriously, as he stretches out on the sofa.

“Half right,” Gabriel says, picking up their empty bowls, and Dean remembers, shit, they both have mommy issues.

“Unless you carry me to bed, I'm sleeping here.” Dean says, changing the subject as quickly as possible.

Gabriel puts everything down in the kitchen, then returns to the sofa to stand over Dean. Dean looks back from under the arm that's flung over his face.

Gabriel's grinning, wide and brilliant. “Alright,” he drawls, and he picks up Dean like it's no trouble at all.

Dean sputters as Gabriel repositions the taller man in his arms. “Dude, what the shit?”

Gabriel's carrying Dean, bridal style, to Dean's room. Dean should, perhaps, be trying to clamber out of Gabriel's arms, but he seems to be clinging on to the shorter man's neck in fear of being dropped.

Gabriel even manages to open the door to Dean's room without dropping him, and, jeez, the guy's a _chef_. How is he even able to _do_ that?

Dean is dumped unceremoniously onto his bed, and he grunts as he hits the mattress. “Rude.” he says gruffly as he settles down.

“Goodnight, sleeping beauty!” Gabriel says, stooping down low to kiss Dean on the forehead.

In the dark, Dean doesn't see it coming to prevent it, but he swats at Gabriel's legs anyway.

“Fuck off,” Dean says, his cheeks just a little warm.

“Yeah, yeah.” Gabriel laughs. “Night.”

“Night.” Dean responds, swiping his hand over his face as Gabriel closes the door behind him.

Dean vehemently denies that he ever considered the possibility of pulling Gabriel into bed with him, and instead focuses on trying to get as much as possible of his outer clothing off while staying as still as possible.

* * *

 

Gabriel's jokes aren't about making Dean feel incompetent. They're about- well, pissing him off, normally.

Which is why Dean knows that this is his own stupid fault.

Dean had been asked to put a light dusting of icing sugar on some of the newest confections for the store while Gabriel went off to do paperwork, or whatever it is Gabriel does when he isn't making the most glorious candy Dean's ever tasted.

So yeah, icing sugar, easy, Dean thinks.

 _Easy as pie_ , he thinks. _Like taking candy from a baby._

He assumes that it's while he's making puns that he picks up the flour by mistake.

Long story short, Dean's just put a light dusting of _flour_ on three trays of truffles.

Shit.

“Cas?” Dean pokes his head around the door the moment he knows there's no-one else in the shop. “I fucked up.”

“Yes, you have,” Castiel says, not turning around. “Is there any way in particular that you've fucked up, or is it just in general?”

“I-” Dean says, looking around. “I put flour on the truffles instead of icing sugar.”

“That's quite something,” Castiel says, nonchalantly rearranging the truffles on display by the counter.

“Yeah, it is,” Dean hisses. “What should I do?”

“I am not getting involved,” Cas says. “You can go tell Gabriel yourself.”

“I'm afraid he might dismember me.”

“That _is_ how we lost last season's part time worker.” Cas deadpans.

Dean frowns. “You're a jerk, Cas.”

“I'm aware.”

Dean cusses Cas out in his head all the way up the stairs.

* * *

 

“Uh, Gabriel?”

“Is the kitchen on fire?” Gabriel drawls lazily from behind a desk that is really way too big for him.

“...Not last time I checked.”

“Are you bleeding profusely?”

“No.”

“Is there any reason you came up here, other than to disturb me? My office is away from you pig-filthy humans for a reason.”

Gabriel's feet are up on his desk, and he's examining his nails.

“Yeah, you're clearly working _real_ hard.”

“Being a genius is hard work, Winchester,” Gabriel says, standing up. “Not that you'd know. What d'you want?”

“Uh,” Dean says, eloquently.

* * *

 

“You put _flour_ ,” Gabriel pauses, “on the _truffles_.”

“I was _distracted_ ,” Dean says petulantly.

Gabriel snorts. “By what? The sheer majesty of the store cupboard?”

“Yeah, actually. Y'see, I have this weird thing that I've never told anyone else...” Dean says, batting his eyelashes. Gabriel doesn't see.

“A store cupboard fetish?” Gabriel scoffs. “Whatever floats your boat.” He waves his fingers over the candies. “Well done, though- I leave you alone in the kitchen for ten minutes, and you ruin three entire trays of truffles.”

“If you're gonna do something, do it right.” Dean mutters as Gabriel picks up the trays and dump them in the trash.

“Damn straight. And I know you're not doing anything this evening apart from maybe watching Groundhog Day with me, so we're staying late and fixing this.” Gabriel grins.

* * *

 

Gabriel looks up from the chocolate he's tempering as the front door clicks.

"Guess Cas decided to leave us to it."

"Good thing, too," Dean joked. "I don't think he would have like what he'd have seen if he'd come in."

"Making truffles, how scandalous!" Gabriel gasps in mock horror.

Dean grins and throws the towel on the counter next to him at the older man. Gabriel dodges it easily, and tuts.

"Throwing in the towel, are we?"

Dean glares at Gabriel, but the effect is somewhat dampened by the fact that's he's straining raspberry puree as he does so. Gabriel just laughs.

* * *

 

Gabriel cracks his knuckles as Dean puts the mixture into the fridge. "That's all we can do for now," Gabriel tells him, "Unless you want to pull an all-nighter.”

Dean snorts. "Making truffles?" he winks lewdly at Gabriel. "I can think of better reasons to pull an all-nighter."

Gabriel just sighs. "Not on a school night, big boy."

Dean chuckles, beginning to wipe down the counters. Gabriel, helpful as ever, just leans against the counter opposite, watching Dean work.

"What, so now I'm a schoolboy?" Dean says. "What kind of weird-ass shit are you into?"

Gabriel steps towards Dean, who is still facing away from him and holding the cloth in one hand. "Whatever you want, baby." he says, his voice low and as smooth as his chocolate, and its sincerity throws Dean off.

Dean turns on the spot, and Gabriel is stood too close behind him, eyes dark and lips parted.

Dean grips the edge of the counter and almost chokes. He can't take his eyes off Gabriel's lips, can't stop imagining them kiss-bitten and bruised and, _God_ , maybe even stretched around Dean's _cock_ -

The thick silence fills the few inches between them. All sounds bar the hum of electricity in the kitchen have ceased; Dean's gulp sounds almost comically loud in their shared, still moment.

Dean manages to tear his eyes from Gabriel's lips, up to his eyes.

Gabriel's eyes, which are a dark amber and most definitely directed at Dean's own mouth.

Dean's hand twitches, and he'll tell himself later that it's to push Gabriel away, not to pull him closer.

And, holy _shit_ , Gabriel's leaning forwards and closing his eyes and Dean's lips part-

And Gabriel's doubled over, raucous laughter shaking his body and slicing through the silence.

Dean takes a breath, and, at a loss about what else to do, forces a grin.

Gabriel straightens up and smirks at Dean.

"Good one, kiddo," he says as he retrieves the cloth that's still clenched in Dean's hand. "You almost had me going there."

Gabriel's turned away, and can't see how Dean's faked smile has become an obvious grimace. "I try." he says, trying to keep his tone light even as his knuckles begin to go white on the kitchen counter.

* * *

 

They normally drive to work together- in the Impala, of course, because Gabriel's car is a piece-of-shit Beetle, and Dean hates it. And anyway, Dean can't deny an opportunity to drive his baby, even if it isn't exactly a long commute.

So Dean's stuck in the car with Gabriel, who is pretty much the last person Dean wants to be in a confined space with, not least because, a) Gabriel's his housemate, b) Gabriel's his boss, and c) Dean has just figured out that what he really wants to do is push Gabriel against the nearest- well, anything, Dean's not picky- and acquaint their mouths.

Dean's pretty sure there's some kind of rulebook you should follow- for one, don't sleep with housemates, for another, don't sleep with your boss- but he's never really been one for rules.

So the ride home is mostly silent, filled with the soft-rock station that Gabriel stubbornly keeps changing the radio to, despite Dean's rule that the driver picks the music.

(Although he'll never admit it to Gabriel, Dean doesn't mind it that much. The music reminds him of long nights spent on the road, Sam curled up at his side and Dad driving easy through the small hours.)

They get home in one piece, Gabriel absently humming REM as he unlocks the door and bows Dean through it. He locks the door behind him, and Dean kicks off his shoes.

“'Sup, Stark?” Gabriel asks tiredly as the terrier jumps up at him. “Is it time for a walk?” he checks the time and almost guiltily adds, “Was it time for a walk two and a half hours ago?”

Dean falls forwards onto the sofa before rolling over onto his back and closing his eyes. He hears Gabriel rummaging around in his freezer, and jumps as two large, flat boxes are dropped on his stomach.

“Heat these up while I walk the Stark-meister,” Gabriel tells Dean, standing over him with Stark's lead in one hand and a pizza cutter shaped like the Enterprise in the other. Dean thinks he looks vaguely threatening like this. “I'll be back in thirty.”

Dean hums and stretches out a little, balancing the pizza boxes on top of each other. “See ya.” he grabs the pizza cutter off Gabriel and manages to balance it on one end on top of the pizza boxes.

Gabriel pokes it as he walks out, Stark loyally following him, and Dean cusses as the boxes slide off his stomach and onto the floor.

* * *

 

Dean's engrossed in an episode of Firefly when Gabriel comes back, and shushes the shorter man when he comes in. Dean pets Stark without looking, and if Gabriel looks closely, he can see Dean mouthing the words along with Captain Reynolds.

Gabriel throws Stark's lead at Dean. “Nerd.” he grumbles, headed towards the kitchen.

“You're the one with blu-ray limited edition copies of Firefly _and_ Serenity.” Dean tells him absently.

“Yeah, and you're the one watching it for the ninth time. What the hell did you do to these pizzas?” Gabriel asks, opening the oven and wiping a hand over his face.

“Nothing,” Dean says, pausing the episode and turning to face Gabriel.

Gabriel is looking at him skeptically, a little sweaty from the warm night air. “I think that might have been the problem.” he sighs.

The pizzas are- well. “Somewhat blackened” is the term Gabriel uses.

“Lightly caramelized,” Dean tells him haughtily. “Should we order something in instead?”

Gabriel turns off the oven. “Nah, screw it. I've tasted worse.” He pulls the pizzas from the oven and puts them on plates. “I have to applaud you- fucking up two unsupervised cooking tasks out of two. What was it this time that distracted you- the linen cupboard?”

“Nathan Fillion's fine ass?” Dean suggests, cutting one of the pizzas and definitely not looking at Gabriel.

“That, at least, would be fully justified.” Gabriel tells him, grabbing both plates and sitting down heavily on the sofa. “What episode are we watching?”

* * *

 

The pizza tastes awful. In the end, they both just pick off the best parts and leave most of the base behind, throwing the leftovers away before silently agreeing on watching another episode.

Gabriel doesn't really watch it, though, instead choosing to look at Dean as he mouths along with the lines, grinning and laughing in all the right places.

Dean smiles, he notices, so much more than he did a few months ago. And not the fake, 'I'm-being-polite-but-honestly-you-can-kiss-my-ass' smile that he does, or the, 'hey-want-to-get-out-of-here' smile that Gabriel's seen him use a few times.

Dean's smile is an honest-to-God, eye crinkling grin that is so happy it makes Gabriel want to pinch his cheeks.

When Dean turns to Gabriel, he's caught out. Gabriel is still staring at him, and Dean's smile fades.

“What?” Dean asks, expression becoming worried.

“Nothing,” Gabriel replies, looking down to the sofa and then back up at Dean. “It's nothing.”

“Really? Because you were looking at me like Cas looks at new people.. Or salad.”

Gabriel grins. “What? No. I was, uh,” he starts, looking for how to end the sentence before deciding on the truth. “You smile more than you did when you first got here.”

“That's because of you, buddy!” Dean simpers, grin obviously becoming more mocking as he elbows Gabriel.

Gabriel pushes him away. “Fuck off, you know what I mean.”

Dean looks back at the screen. “Yeah, I do,” he says, almost contemplatively, and reaches for his beer. “It's been good for me, staying here.”

“Well, hopefully you'll be sticking around a bit longer.” Gabriel replies, but Dean recognizes the question for what it is.

Dean takes a long drink of his beer. “Hopefully.” he says, looking Gabriel dead on, and smiling a smile that's equal parts charming and devious.

When Gabriel reaches in to grab Dean's beer bottle, he's stopped by Dean's calloused hand on his cheek. Dean tips Gabriel's face upwards, and leans in, keeping his eyes on Gabriel's until the older man's flutter shut. Dean presses his lips to the other man's just for a second before pulling away, their noses still touching.

“I, uh,” Dean says, and Gabriel leans in this time, fitting their warm lips together and pressing his tongue against the line of Dean's mouth until he's opening up for him, and they kiss until the episode's over and the disc's menu music is playing on repeat.

* * *

  


Dean's morning starts off with the familiar clatter of a dog bowl against the edge of a counter, and Gabriel's hissed but creative swear.

He's in his own bed, and, even better, can remember how he came to be here. This is a new feeling to Dean, as, most of the time when he remembers making out with someone, he can't remember much of what follows.

But Dean has no holes in his memory, no pounding headache. Instead, he's left with thoughts of kissing Gabriel until the older man had pulled away, smiled, said something about it being past his bed time, and pressed a chaste kiss to Dean's lips before saying goodnight and retreating to his own bedroom.

Dean was left a little confused, but content and relatively unembarrassed, to tidy up the living room by himself.

Gabriel and Stark are gone by the time Dean's out of bed, and he decided to take his time in the shower, taking himself in hand and thinking of those damn lips, and maybe those eyes looking up at him through dark lashes-

Dean hasn't considered having a long-term relationship in a while. In years, in fact. He'd tried it, once, with a journalism major called Cassie, and it hadn't worked out so well.

Since Dean met Gabriel, everything about how he lives his life has changed. He's got friends here, a permanent place to stay in that doesn't look like its previous tenants were heroin addicts, and he's eating decent, home-cooked food for the first time in years.

Dean is cautiously optimistic about this.

Things seem to be looking up.

* * *

 

Dean is optimistic for a whole fifteen minutes before he leaves the bathroom and is confronted by Gabriel.

Well, confronted isn't really the right word. There's nothing distinctly off with him, but his smiles seem a little faker than usual, his eyes a little glassy.

The thing that clues Dean in on just how _weird_ Gabriel is being is how Gabriel refuses to get into Dean's personal space, a trait that Dean had, up until this point, just thought was something Gabriel did constantly and on a subconscious level.

Apparently not.

It takes Castiel all of half a minute to figure out that something's wrong. Gabriel doesn't grab coffees for anyone, instead quickly running through what needed to be done during the day, and then heading straight for the kitchen.

Dean just shrugs as Cas, following Gabriel and sticking his head through the door.

“Gabe? D'you want a hand?”

“Nah, I'm alright, thanks.” came Gabriel's response, with an air of flippancy, obviously forced. “I need you on till, though. Send Cas through.” Gabriel isn't even facing the door- instead, he has his back turned on Dean and his shoulders hunched slightly.

Dean pauses, and raises his eyebrows. “Okay.” he says quietly, and closes the door.

Cas is on him in seconds. “Do you mind telling me what was up with that?”

“How am I meant to know? By the way, Dr Evil in there wants to see you.”

Cas waves the second part off, allowing Dean to pass him but following the taller man to the counter. “You work with him. You live with him. You drive between your living space and your workplace with him. It's a miracle you're not sleeping with him.” Cas raises his eyebrows as Dean looks up sharply at this. “Please tell me you're not sleeping with him.”

“I'm not sleeping with him,” Dean says. “And I don't know what's got him acting so...” he gestures, “Whatever it is he's being right now. Detatched.”

“Right, sure.” The sarcasm in Castiel's tone is biting. “Are you sure you didn't accidentally poison his dog? Because he's acting like that's what you've done.”

“I am like ninety-nine percent sure that his dog is not poisoned.” Dean tells Cas, very seriously, as he opens up the cash register.

“Well, that's a relief,” Cas says. “We'll finish this discussion later. For now, I have a very short, very annoyed chocolatier to tend to.”

As Cas leaves, Dean flips him off. He has a pretty good idea of what's got Gabriel acting so weird, but like hell is he telling Castiel about it.

* * *

 

“I tried to ask him,” Cas reports back, “but his response was unsavory and he was holding a knife, so I decided against pursuing the subject.”

Dean hums, trying to get Castiel to stop talking. Dean's behind the counter, and Castiel is meant to be restocking the shelves, but instead he's leaning on the counter in front of Dean, his head cocked annoyingly to to one side like a puppy.

“Your attempts to avoid the subject are only making it more obvious that you know something,” Castiel tells him. “Please, tell me, before I am forced to either torture the answer out of you or murder Gabriel for being so aggravating.”

Castiel's baby blues are piercing Dean, asking for answers, but Dean's entire personality can be summed up with the word 'stubborn', so he simply looks down and carries on weighing cubes of fudge.

Cas moves so his face is still in Dean's line of vision. “Dean.”

Dean sighs. “Aren't you meant to be restocking things?” he asks.

Castiel leaves silently, and Dean closes his eyes in relief, until Castiel returns with the correct jar. Cas situates himself next to Dean, behind the counter, and starts silently refilling the container.

“Dean.” Cas repeats after a few minutes. “I was trained in the military. I'd prefer if this didn't come to violence, but I can hurt you.”

Dean snorts, but otherwise remains silent.

After a few more minutes of the tense silence, Dean can tell that Cas is very close to losing his cool. “Dean-” the shorter man grits out, once Dean's finished serving a customer.

“Okay, okay,” Dean says, looking around and smiling at the few customers who looked up at Cas' slightly raised voice. “But this isn't because I want 'boy advice' or some shit, alright?” He glares at Cas. “I don't want some kind of, 'ooh, gay best friend, let's go shopping' shit. I'm just telling you 'cause you asked.”

Dean looks around briefly, and then lowers his voice even more. “I kissed Gabriel.”

“You did what?” Cas' voice is loud, and the few customers in the shop look around again.

“I kissed him- well, it was a mutual thing- we kissed.” he finishes faintly.

“Why, exactly, did you think that would be a good idea?”

Dean shrugs. “It was a heat of the moment thing. It just happened.”

“And then what?” Cas asks. “Something must have happened to get him like this.”

“And then nothing!” Dean says, shrugging again. “We kissed a bit, he went to bed, I went to bed-” he gives Cas a dark look. “Separately. In our own beds.”

Castiel hums. “Interesting.”

“Oh yeah, it's friggin' fascinating.” Dean bites out.

“Maybe it's because you didn't put out.”

Dean levels a gaze at the blue-eyed man. “That doesn't seem like Gabriel's style.”

“Dean,” Cas starts, leaning forwards. “Before you turned up, Gabriel getting laid was like the sun going down in the evening. It always happened, without fail. And then it stopped happening quite so often, and then I found out that Gabriel had met someone online, and then he stopped going out altogether, and you turned up about a week after that.

“From what I know, Gabriel's gone four months without having sex. And normally, when he's had sex,” Cas shrugs, “he gloats. So what I can tell you is, you turned up, he turned celibate, and then you two made out, and now he's pissed off.” Cas gestures with his hands, one of which is still holding the display jar.

Dean nods slowly. It does kind of make sense, and sure does explain the whole silk-sheets thing.

Castiel leans in and lowers his voice, like he's sharing a secret with Dean. “Dean, I believe that Gabriel wishes to engage in homosexual intercourse with you.” Dean pulls away, and Cas nods. “I fear that the only way you can pull Gabriel from his melancholy is either by sleeping with him, or explaining to him that you don't want to sleep with him. Both of these are rather likely to make your lives uncomfortable.”

“I'm not gonna sleep with him.” Dean says, because okay, it's not like he's never done that before, but this is Gabriel, and Gabriel's his boss, and housemate, and the closest friend he's had for years.

“Then don't,” Cas tells him, “but expect him to become increasingly ... Polite.”

“Gabriel being polite, wouldn't that just be the end of the world.”

Castiel fixes him with a piercing stare that chills him slightly. “You have no idea.”

* * *

 

“I can't work like this any more,” Castiel tells Dean, three days later. “You're going to have to sleep with him, or I will be forced to hire someone who will. Are you willing to accept monetary compensation?”

Over the past few days, Gabriel has withdrawn from Dean, withdrawn from Cas, withdrawn from anyone who wants more than just polite conversation. When Gabriel's home, he spends most of his time on his laptop- budgeting, apparently, but Dean knows better than to believe that- and their Friday night Dr Sexy episode is just that- one episode. For the first time, Gabriel just watches the episode, then announces he's going to bed.

“I'm pretty sure that's called prostitution.” Dean tells Cas patiently, transferring Gabriel's latest batch of truffles from their tray to the corresponding jar.

“Dean, I'm not trying to solicit you for sex.” Castiel tells him, looking up at him. “But if this carries on much longer, it may come to that.”

“Hiring a hooker for your brother? That's gross.” Dean says, even though he did that for Sam for his eighteenth birthday. Anyway, Dean figures he and Sam are the exception to a lot of rules on conventional brotherhood.

“Half-brother,” Castiel reminds Dean. “I thought maybe you'd accept reimbursement.”

Dean snorts. “Reimbursement for _what_? Sleeping with a hot guy? Yeah, sure, I'll take that.”

“Wait,” Castiel says, looking straight up at Dean. “You can't mean you _want_ to sleep with him?”

Dean looks away. “Well, yeah,” he shrugs one shoulder. “Kinda why I kissed him.”

Cas glowers. “So why haven't you? It would make things much easier.”

“'Cause I don't wanna sleep with him just to stop him being a bitch!” Dean laughs, but there's a note of bitterness in his tone.

Cas lowers his voice even more. “Are you telling me,” he says, leaning towards Dean, “that you're withholding intercourse from Gabriel because he's annoyed that you won't have intercourse with him?”

Dean mulls it over for a moment. “I guess.” Cas begins to speak, but Dean cuts him off. “But he pulled away from the kiss first, not me. And then he got all- whatever the hell it is he's being-” Dean wiggles his fingers in the direction of the kitchen door, “and I wasn't gonna pick up where we left off when he's acting like that.”

Cas pulls away and bends over the counter enough to lightly hit his head on the surface. “You're both idiots.” he tells Dean, and Dean can't argue with that.

* * *

 

“So, Gabe,” Dean begins with a tone of friendliness that's obviously, _obviously_ forced. “What're your plans for Sunday?”

Gabriel shrugs in the passenger seat of the Impala. “Same old, same old,” he tells Dean, continuing to look out the windshield. “Gonna take Stark to the park.”

“Cool,” Dean nods. “I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie later?”

“I think I'll pass,” Gabriel tells him, still not looking at the taller man. “Got some research I want to do.”

“Really?” Dean says, incredulity pasted thick over annoyance. “You've been researching for days. Sure you can't just take a couple hours off?”

“I'm sure,” Gabriel says. “Sorry.”

Dean gives Gabriel a long look that says that he knows what Gabriel's doing. Gabriel finally turns, and his gaze is daring Dean to do something about it.

Dean huffs, and looks pointedly back to the road.

* * *

 

There is nothing Dean hates more than talking about his feelings. If there's one thing he was taught by his dad, it was to suppress his feelings and never, ever talk about them. Sam, however, had never learnt that lesson- probably because Dad was too busy out working to actually bring Sammy up- and insisted on trying to start a talk about feelings whenever he could.

Come to think of it, Dean realizes, maybe that's why Sam's the one with a college scholarship and a girlfriend, and Dean isn't.

Gabriel's aversion towards talking about his feelings seems to be rooted even deeper than Dean's, but by this point, Dean knows that the only way they're gonna get through this is by talking about it. And if Gabriel's happy to talk about it, than Dean is more than happy to listen to him talking about it.

The problem is, Gabriel isn't happy to talk about it. He's gone most of Sunday morning, out at the park with Stark, and when he gets back, he leaves immediately for lunch with Baldur, Kali, and some friends of theirs.

Dean wouldn't mind, but he knows that he only has today to sort this out- he doesn't think he can wait another week for their next day off. So, when Gabriel returns, Dean has all the doors to other rooms closed, and is situated close enough to the door that Gabriel can't make a break for freedom if he wants to.

“So,” he begins, wishing for the first time in weeks that Sam were with him. “What's up?”

Gabriel looks stranded in the middle of the room before he straightens up. “Nothing.” he says defensively.

Dean steps closer to him. “Really?” he cocks his head and raises an eyebrow. “Because you've been acting a little strange recently.”

“Strange?” Gabriel snorts. “What are you on about?”

“All this polite distance, all this,” he gestures, becoming angry, “ _hiding away_ from me. What's with it?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Gabriel says, heading towards his room.

Dean's across the room and in front of Gabriel within seconds. “Bullshit,” Dean says, towering over Gabriel. Gabriel doesn't back down. “You've been acting weird ever since the kiss."

Gabriel stares Dean down. "I don't know what you're talking about." he repeats, but this time his tone is darker, more dangerous. Dean pushes anyway.

"Like hell you don't," Dean tells him. "We kiss, and suddenly you back away, treat me like we haven't been friends six months."

Gabriel whistles, mocking Dean. "Wow, six months? Is that all?"

Dean spins on his heel and walks away. "Dammit, Gabriel. I don't have to stay here."

“Where you gonna go, Dean?” Gabriel's head is tilted and his smile cruel. “Gonna drift into another job? Or maybe you'll go find Daddy. How long's it been since you talked to him? Or, even better, Sammy. Sammy at Stanford with his perfect life, yeah, Sammy'll look after you.” Gabriel coos.

In an instant, Dean's turned and is across the room, pressing Gabriel into the wall by the kitchen. “Don't talk about my family. You know jack shit about me.”

Gabriel smiles and shrugs, like he isn't being pressed into a wall by a guy with at least four inches and twenty pounds on him. “Here's the deal.” he says. “You tell me about your problems, and I'll tell you about mine.”

“I'm not gonna talk about my fucking problems with you.” Dean snarls.

“Well, good, because I don't want to talk about mine with you.” Gabriel smiles, and it manages to look menacing. “Will you let me go now?”

Dean doesn't let go, and, instead, surprisingly, actually considers it. He really, really doesn't want to talk about his life, but Sam always insisted that it would help in some way, and if he was gonna talk about his problems with anyone, it would be Gabriel.

And anyway, loathe as he is to admit it, he does care about Gabriel, and he wants to understand what the hell is going on with him.

Dean weighs it up for a moment, and then steps away, releasing Gabriel. “Okay then.”

“What?” Gabriel splutters.

“Let's do this. I'll go first.” Dean tells him.

* * *

 

They're both sat on the sofa, each with a beer. Dean would much rather Gabriel just stopped being a dick, but clearly for that to happen, Gabriel needs to talk about it, and for that to happen, Dean also needs to talk about things.

He considers, for a moment, lying about it all, but it would be so much effort, and truth is stranger than fiction, or so they say.

So he settles back in his seat, doesn't look at Gabriel, and begins.

“My mom died when I was four. Fire in the nursery. My brother almost died. My dad almost died.” Dean laughs humorlessly. “ _I_ almost died.”

He can see Gabriel nodding, so he continues. “I carried Sammy out, my dad tried to save my mom, but,” he shrugs, “well, you know. So he packed us up into his car, and we started moving around. Dad kind of went off the handle, got odd jobs wherever he could, spent most of his time out working or drinking. I looked after Sam, brought him up. Sam left for college, me and my dad went our separate ways.”

“When did you last talk to them?” Gabriel asks, and Dean looks up.

“My dad? Months. Not since I got here. Last we talked, he was in South Dakota, had been for a while. I don't think he's gone far.”

“And your brother?” Gabriel prompts.

“Haven't talked for...” Dean does the math, “Best part of two years.” The conversation they'd had had been perfunctory, awkward, and stilted. Dean hadn't called Sam after that.

When it becomes clear that Dean isn't elaborating, Gabriel takes a breath.

“My mom was a stoner. Well, she was a stoner, but that wasn't the only thing she used, y'know? OD'd on heroin before I was two, can't remember a thing about her.” he shrugs. “We weren't close. My dad moved around a bit, got married a couple more times before I moved out. Lots of half and step siblings, hence Castiel and Anna. The family's big.”

Gabriel groans slightly and takes a swig of his beer. “The family's also nuts,” he tells Dean, like he's talking about the weather. “I love my family, of course I do. But they're fucking nuts. Everyone's got daddy issues, daddy never has enough time for them. Always trying to please him when his concentration's on whatever else.

“I got out of there,” Gabriel continues. “Like I said, I love them, but I'd had enough. Packed up and drove off, middle of the night. Most of 'em don't come looking for me. I don't care,” he finishes, taking another drink. “Lots of fighting, y'know? So I got out of there.”

“Castiel found you.” Dean says simply. “And Anna.”

“They're the black sheep,” Gabriel tells him proudly. “They're not interested in proving to our dad how great they are. Most of the family are lawyers, businessmen, important people, y'know? And how many of them hate their jobs? But not me,” Gabriel says. “I love it, and that's way more important than proving myself to someone else.”

“Huh,” Dean says. It wasn't what he'd been expecting, but it was nice to hear about Gabriel's life. “So what about recently?”

“Uh-uh,” Gabriel says, shaking his beer bottle at the taller man. “You have to tell me something else, first.”

“Like what? I'm not the one who's been a complete asshole for the past week.”

Gabriel shrugs. “You mentioned your mom, and I went off on a tangent. So sue me. It's still your turn.”

Dean knows what kind of game Gabriel's playing. It's quid pro quo- Gabriel will only tell Dean what Dean wants to know when Gabriel knows what he wants to know.

Dean shrugs. There's an easy way to figure out how to win this. “What do you want to know?” he asks.

Gabriel shifts in his seat, pulling himself away from Dean. He seems small, smaller than Dean's ever seen him, to the point of seeming vulnerable.

Gabriel is many things, Dean thinks, but he'd never thought he'd be _vulnerable_.

“What's with this?” the chocolatier asks, pointing first at Dean, and then at himself. He's looking down, like he's afraid Dean's going to make fun of him.

Pulling a leg up onto the sofa, Dean turns to Gabriel. His 'no chick flick moments' rule is being shot to hell. “It's like Simon and Kaylee, right? I'm- no, _you're_ Kaylee, on the ship-” he gestures around their apartment, “and living life, until I come along, with my dysfunctional family, and then,” he frowns, “there's some making fun of each other and gradual build up of tension and- stuff. I dunno. At least no-one's been shot.” Dean looks down at the sofa.

“That was beautiful.” Gabriel simpers. Dean throws a cushion at him.

“Fuck you, you asked. Anyway, it's your turn. Why have you been acting like such a bitch?”

“I like you,” Gabriel shrugs, like it's not a big deal, except for the fact that it totally is, because if it wasn't, Gabriel wouldn't have been acting like he'd been replaced by a Cyberman. “Things don't tend to go well when I like someone.”

“That's it? You're just scared that I'll bug out and run off?”

“That wasn't what I said, but, to be fair, your lifestyle choices up to now hint that you'll run off at some point.”

Their eyes meet.

“Not if I've got something to stick around for.” Dean means to say it derisively, but it comes out soft, and it brings out a goofy grin from Gabriel.

“Shiny.” Gabriel says, smile wide and bright. He leans forward, and puts his beer down.

Dean laughs, throwing his head back and putting down his beer. “Geek.”

“You know it.”

This time, when they kiss, it's not exploratory. Dean's not trying to familiarize himself with Gabriel's mouth.

It's unlike any kiss Dean's had in years. It's not introducing something, or building up to anything. They kiss because they want to, until it's getting dark out, and Gabriel is laid on top of Dean on the sofa. and their jaws hurt.

Dean considers moving as the day moves on, but he's warm and comfortable with Gabriel next to him, so he doesn't.

* * *

 

Dean wakes up as Gabriel shifts in his arms. It's early, and the soft golden light is streaming through the windows- neither of them had remembered to close the curtains the night before.

Dean groans, and tries to move his arm over his face. He looks down in panic as he can't move it, and drops his head back down onto the arm of the sofa as he realizes it's because Gabriel is lying on it. Damn. They're _spooning_.

The shorter man snorts softly at Dean's reaction.. “Morning, Dean-o.” His voice is soft and deep.

“Coffee.” Dean groans, his voice cracking. He clears his throat and tries again. “I need coffee.”

Gabriel sits up, stretching his back. “It's,” he checks the time, “five past six. You can stay here and have your coffee- unless you want to come with me and Stark?”

It's the first time Gabriel's offered, and Dean appreciates this, he really does. But he had no idea that six o'clock existed in the morning as well as in the evening, and he just spent the night _spooning_ with the dude. If they start walking the dog together, Dean's going to have to start throwing punches just to feel manly again.

“I need to shower.” Dean responds, dragging himself up into a sitting position and looking up at Gabriel, who's stood up and is looking around for Stark's lead.

He spots it, whistles for the terrier, and grabs a Twix. “I'll take that as a no.”

Dean closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the sofa. “Cool.” When he opens his eyes again, Gabriel is stood over him and smiling slightly. “What?” Dean asks, still groggy.

Gabriel leans down, stops, and pulls away, coughing slightly. “Nothing.”

“Were you about to kiss me goodbye?” Dean asks, in disbelief.

Gabriel shrugs, turning away to scoop up Stark into his arms. “Maybe.”

Dean reaches up and tugs Gabriel's sleeve, pulling him round and then down for a kiss.

It's short, and sweet, and it feels like the beginning.

“See ya later.” Gabriel says, pulling away and raising an eyebrow before bounding out the door. Dean rubs his eyes, stretches his arms, and then cracks his knuckles. His back protests as he stands up, and Dean knows it's from sleeping on the sofa.

“Dammit.” he mutters. He's gotten used to sleeping in a comfortable bed, rather than on sofas and shitty motel beds and in the backseat of a muscle car.

How Gabriel manages to be up and coherent and active already is beyond Dean. It takes him a couple of minutes to get up and into the bathroom. He brushes his teeth, before getting into the shower, barely having enough time to wash his hair before he hears 'Smoke on the Water' from the living room.

The only people who call Dean these days are prospective workplaces. But it's half six in the morning, and anyway, Dean hasn't sent out a single CV, or even filled in an application form, for months. “Shit,” he mumbles, clambering out of the shower and grabbing a towel as he runs into the living room.

He picks up just before the phone stops ringing. “Hello?” he asks, trying not to sound out of breath.

“Dean?”

It takes a moment to place the voice. “Bobby,” Dean says, relaxing. “Long time, no see.”

* * *

 

Dean does something he hasn't done in more than a year. He calls Sam.

He looks at his phone for a long moment before pressing 'call', his mind blank as he waits for Sam to pick up.

“Hello?” It's unmistakably Sam, his voice gruff and sleep-roughened. “Who is this?”

Dean wants to laugh hysterically, because it's not even seven in the morning, of course Sam isn't even coherent enough to check his caller ID.

“Sammy?” he says, his voice echoing in his head.

“Dean?” Sam immediately sounds more alert, and there's the sound of someone else- a female- talking in the background. “Dean, what- what's happened?”

“Sammy, it's Dad.” Dean croaks. “Bobby just called. Dad's dead.”

* * *

 

The coroner had returned a verdict of accidental death. Dean disagreed. Bobby disagreed. Sam had never said one way or the other, but both Dean knew Sam disagreed as well, had been able to tell from the set of his jaw.

Sam had taken it stoically, arriving at Bobby's the next day and greeting them both with manly hugs and only minimal tears, which were, of course, ignored by all parties. Dean and Bobby in return greeted him with gruff conversation and gratuitous amounts of whiskey.

Dean had packed up and left Texas as fast as he could, his hair still wet as he had started up the Impala's engine.

The only thing that had cut through the continued images of his Dad, cold and pale on some pathologist's table, was the image of Gabriel coming home and finding Dean gone.

Dean hadn't been breathing properly as he drove out of town, pulling over just past the city limits and gasping for breath, eyes burning and his hands braced on the wheel.

One problem at a time, he had thought as he'd pulled out into the morning traffic again. And right now, his problem was the fact that his Dad was dead, killed in a car crash.

Dean had stayed sober enough to be able to go in and identify his father's body, but had gone back to Bobby's straight afterward, spending the day drinking scotch, sitting on the sofa, and ignoring Bobby's sympathetic looks.

Dean, Sam, and Bobby had spent several days in some kind of drunken haze, mostly silent in Bobby's study.

Sam had cornered him in the kitchen at one point, gaze a little too unfocused for Dean's liking. “He told me never to come back.” Sam had said.

“Yeah, well.” Dean had said darkly, moving past Sam to find some food.

“Wish I had, just to piss him off.” Sam said, leaning heavily on the counter. “Seems like pissing him off was the only thing I ever did right.”

“He had a college fund for you,” Dean had said bleakly. “and for me. But you were always gonna go to college, Sammy. Dunno why I was so surprised when you told us you'd got into Stanford.” Dean shrugged, a little unsteady on his feet. “He spent all the money on gas.”

Sam snorts with a mix of derision and laughter. “Sounds like him.”

Dean just hummed in response. Sam had stayed in the kitchen for a long time after Dean had left the room.

After what Dean supposes was about three days, Bobby kicked them out of the study, telling them to go clean up.

Dean was still wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing when he'd left Gabriel's. He'd showered, got dressed in clothes that smelled like Gabriel's detergent, and then decided against doing anything else. He spent the rest of the day passed out on top of the covers in one of Bobby's spare rooms, catching up on all the sleep he'd missed in the days he'd spent half-awake and mostly-drunk with Sam.

Dean only remembers pieces of the days following Dad's death, having spent most of it in a haze of emotion, or drunkenness, or insomnia. He doesn't want to think about the funeral, or the distribution of his father's earthly belongings.

Gabriel had called Dean seventeen times within the first day of Dean's leaving. There were several messages left, as well, which Dean flips through from time to time.

“Dean? Where are you? Seriously, call me back, I don't know where you are.”

“Dean, what the fuck? Call me back, or I swear, I'll come out looking for you.”

“Dean Winchester I fucking swear to God I will tear you limb from limb when you show up. If you’re not already dead, I will end you. If you are dead, I’ll hunt you down kill you anyway.”

“If you don't respond to this, I'm putting out a missing persons on you.”

Dean had texted back after that message, even if he doesn't remember doing it. 'im ok', the text had said.

“Call me. Where are you? What's happened?” A resigned sigh. “Dean, fucking talk to me. I'm- I'm worried about you.”

Gabriel had stopped calling after that.

* * *

 

Dean goes out for the first time seven weeks after he leaves Bobby's.

He hasn't gone back to Texas, hasn't called Gabriel. Instead, he's been staying in California with Sam, not wanting to be too far away from his baby brother in case something else happens.

He's been staying in Sam's apartment, working in a coffee shop and generally spending his time thinking about very little.

He hasn't told Sam about Gabriel, because then Sam will want to talk about it.

Sam had tried to talk to Dean about Dad a couple weeks after they'd gotten to California. Dean had thrown a punch or two. Sam hadn't brought it up again.

It's been Dean's longest dry spell since he was fifteen and awkwardly growing into his too-long limbs. He knows why, as well- at least in Texas, the person he wanted was right _there_ , almost constantly, and Dean was pretty sure no-one he could meet in a bar would be as innately fascinating as Gabriel.

This in itself if a weird feeling. Dean's never been fascinated by someone, has never even wanted to be.

So he goes out to a shitty bar, meets a skinny British dude called Charles with dyed red hair and black-rimmed glasses and sad blue eyes, and blows him against the wall.

Dean's been with people who have said someone else's name in bed, but it's the first time he's been the culprit. And it's okay if Dean hisses “ _Gabriel_ ” as Charles reciprocates, because Charles had been gasping, “Oh, _Alex_ ” as he came down Dean's throat.

Dean thinks maybe it'll be okay, maybe he'll stop thinking about Gabriel so much now, maybe he's cleaned himself of Gabriel. He's wrong, of course.

* * *

 

Dean moves to Santa Cruz, ends up in a sandwich shop, and Sam thinks it's safe enough to question Dean about what happened in Texas now that Dean's far away enough that the journey back just to punch Sam wouldn't be worth it.

“So,” Sam says, during one of their phone-calls, which are suddenly happening nightly. “What's been happening with you, anyway?”

“You mean apart from Dad dying?” Dean snorts, idly wandering around his water-stained apartment.

“Yeah, Dean, apart from that.” Sam's voice goes soft. “You seem fucked up. And not just, 'my dad died' fucked up, something- something else.”

“Nothing,” Dean replies quickly, automatically defensive. “Nothing happened.”

“Yeah, you wanna run that past me again?”

Dean scowls, picking at some peeling paint on the wall. He knows there's no getting away from this, not unless he wants Sam to be bugging him about it for the rest of his life.

“Met someone down in Texas is all.”

“Yeah?” Sam says, and Dean can hear the happiness and pride in his voice. It's sickening.

“Yeah.” Dean says, gruff and uninviting.

“She hot?” Sam asks, and Dean knows exactly the kind of dumb-ass grin that would be on his brother's face by this point.

Dean doesn't even consider lying. “He was pretty fine, yeah.” he says, putting a slight emphasis on the pronoun.

It doesn't throw Sam for a second, thank God, and Dean's fingertips clutch tightly at the tiny sliver of paint between his nails. He pulls it off, watches as a square inch of paint follows the fleck he's just tugged off. “Oh, cool. You guys actually date, or...”

“Uh-” Dean's thrown for a moment. Could he count Doctor Sexy nights as date nights? Maybe the night of the burnt pizzas counted, and that last night in Texas probably did. “I think we went on two?”

Sam laughs. “Huh. Two whole dates. I'm almost proud of you.”

“Well, it wasn't, uh-” Dean blurts, before realizing that he's saying something he shouldn't be saying. He carries on regardless. “It wasn't really two, cause we were, y'know, living together-” Dean carries on through Sam's splutter, “and we used to have a designated Doctor Sexy and a movie night, so maybe they counted.”

Sam sounds disbelieving. “How long were you there for?” He asks.

Dean shrugs. He's got a fingernail against peeling paint flecks again. “Few months. Met the guy online, applied for work in his shop, and kind of ended up moving in with him.”

“Dean.” Sam sounds disapproving. “That's a sure-fire way to end up rotting in some sick bastard's basement.”

“Well, it's not like I make a habit of it,” Dean scowls. “Anyway, not everyone on the internet is a pervert, Sammy.”

Sam hums. “You talked to him recently?”

“No.”

Dean can hear Sam sigh, and he rolls his eyes. “You going to?” Sam asks.

Dean shrugs, forgetting that Sam can't see him. “Dunno.”

“Let me guess,” Sam says, and Dean can picture him sinking onto a sofa and looking exasperated. “You heard about Dad and got the hell outta dodge. He called you, you never picked up or responded, and now you feel too guilty about it to call him back now.”

Dean shrugs a shoulder again. “I guess. How'd you figure _that_ out?”

“'Cause it's what you did with me, Dean.”

Dean feels like there's a knife twisting in his gut. “Oh.” He says, voice small.

“Yeah,” Sam says, and it should be flippant, but the word's a little pained. “Well. This guy probably deserves better than that.”

There's silence for a moment.

“I'll call you tomorrow, Dean.”

“I'm sorry, Sam,” Dean blurts, just before Sam's about to hang up. “I- I should have called you back. I just... I guess I just thought you were happier without me.”

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Dean. I wasn't happier without you. I missed the hell outta you the whole time I was there. Still do now. But I was, uh,” his voice goes quiet, “I was happy to be away from Dad.”

Dean swallows thickly. He gets it, he thinks. Sam and Dad had shared similarities- more than Dean had shared with either of them- but their dad had been distant from Sam, and they'd spent more nights arguing than not.

“Huh,” Dean says. “Well, I'm still sorry.”

“Call him, Dean. Sleep well.”

“Night, Sammy.”

Sam hangs up, and the silence pervades Dean's apartment as he leans against the wall, with his phone still pressed to his ear.

He stays like that for a long time.

* * *

 

Dean doesn't take Sam's advice. It's not just because he'll feel guilty for not calling Gabriel back, but he also knows that Gabriel will have assumed that his leaving will have been because of the night before.

Dean isn't going back. He knows that. And he isn't going to justify leaving to someone that he'll never see again.

Things, as they tend to do once Gabriel becomes actively involved, change in October.

* * *

 

It's been three months since Dean's father died, and Dean's finding it harder and harder to settle in one place for too long. In the end, he'd only spent three weeks in Santa Cruz, and had moved onto Tacoma, WA, quickly.

Even there, so far from the Texas town Dean had come to know better than any other, he couldn't settle. He'd moved to Olympia within two weeks, leaving behind a disgruntled landlord, and a frankly pissed-off boss.

Sam calls Dean when he's on a study break each evening. Dean's been re-adjusting to being away from Sam, but is still trying to stay relatively close by- which is why he has a job in Washington State rather than the one in North Carolina that had caught his eye.

Sam and Bobby are the only people that call Dean, and Dean's pretty sure they only do it to check up on him, make sure he hasn't gone off the rails, make sure he- well, Dean's sure they don't want him to go the same way as his dad.

Dean knows that will never happen. He'd never hurt his car that way.

So Dean gets a call at about half-eight one evening, fishing his phone out of his pocket while he's juggling the TV remote, a takeout container, and a bottle of beer. He doesn't bother checking the ID.

“Hello?” he says, pinning the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he puts everything down on the motel bed.

“Dean?” replies a voice on the other end.

“Who- Sam, is that-” Dean checks his phone, not recognizing the voice, and almost chokes.

His heart drops a little, and Dean suddenly starts panicking. The phone is jerked back to his ear.

“Gabriel?” Dean means it as a statement, but it comes out as a slightly squeaky question.

Gabriel's tone is relieved. “Dean. Hey.”

Dean has absolutely nothing to say.

That's a lie. He has a thousand things he wants to say- “I'm sorry”, “I didn't leave because of you”, and “I miss you”, for a start- but nothing he can bring himself to say.

Dean tries to stabilize his voice. “How- how've you been?”

Gabriel's laugh is short and somewhat startled. “Okay,” he says. “Cas misses having you around.”

Dean figures this might be code for something, but Gabriel's not the easiest guy to read. “Yeah, I miss Cas too.”

“Just checking in,” Gabriel says after a moment, tone too light for Gabriel to be telling the truth. “Wanted to make sure you're not dead.”

Dean knows Gabriel is bitter about this. It's been months, and all Gabriel had got was a stupid, two word long text. “Yeah, I'm still around.” he says, inviting no more conversation.

“So, you gonna tell me why you did a runner?” Gabriel asks, and Dean can hear the undercurrent of nervousness in the man's voice. Sure, Gabriel's hard to read, but Dean's spent a lot of time with the guy.

“My dad died.” Dean says simply.

Nervousness gives way to anger. “Oh, great,” Gabriel says, biting snark at the ready. “So I'll put your absence at work down to a family emergency, shall I? Thanks for telling me.”

“Gabriel-” Dean starts, and then realizes he has nothing to say.

“Oh, no, it's _fine_. I mean, I was having visions of you upping and leaving and ending up dead, but it's cool. No biggie.” Gabriel hisses. “I mean, sure, there was our friendship, our _relationship_ , but obviously your family's too important to give me more than one shitty text over three months.”

Maybe Dean _had_ been running.

“Gabriel,” he says, more certain of himself now. “My dad died in a car crash, with a tree, with no witnesses, in broad daylight. But my Dad,” Dean continues over Gabriel's interruption, “was an awesome driver, and he knew the roads 'round Sioux Falls better than anywhere else.”

Gabriel interrupts again. “You reckon your dad killed himself.”

It's the first time Dean has heard anyone say it out loud, rather than through implications and euphemisms. Gabriel's bluntness would be refreshing if it wasn't so painful.

“Coroner said accidental, but I don't think so.” Dean says, and there's silence for a moment.

“I'm sorry, Dean,” Gabriel says, and he sounds sincere. “I really am. It's a lot to work through.”

Dean huffs out a breath. “Yeah.”

“For what it's worth,” Gabriel says, after another pause, “my Dad's gone missing. Anna went back to 'em all, just for a bit, and found out. No-one's seen him for months.”

Dean reads between the lines, and is suddenly sure why Gabriel was so angry at him for pulling his own disappearing act.

Dean rubs a hand over his face. “I'm sorry, Gabe.”

“Eh,” Gabriel says. “Not your fault.”

“Nah, I mean it. I'm sorry for running off. Too much was happening at once, and I was gonna call you, I swear.”

“Sure thing.” Gabriel sounds old and tired all of a sudden. “I gotta go. Bye, Dean.”

Dean's taken aback by the U-turn in their conversation, and he starts to say something to keep Gabriel on the line, but he's already gone.

* * *

 

Sam accuses him of being an “evasive little fuck” on the phone that night, and their conversation is short.

Dean's distracted, is all. He's missed Gabriel, missed Cas, missed the limited edition blu-ray Firefly boxset.

He thinks back to his last night in Texas, the day he'd screwed up the truffles, the prank war, his first day, that first email he'd sent.

He packs.

He leaves.

* * *

 

Dean drives through the night, and then keeps going. He calls his boss from a rest stop after about twelve hours, says there's a family emergency, says he's not coming back.

He burns through the tapes, flitting from Creedence to AC/DC and even to Bon Jovi before settling on Asia.

The long expanses of roads encourage thinking, Dean finds. He comes up with a hundred scenarios- Dean showing up at Gabriel's apartment and finding that he's out, Dean showing up at Gabriel's apartment and finding that he's with someone else, Dean showing up at Just Desserts and finding that it's not there any more. Dean showing up and Gabriel telling him to get out.

Dean gets to sleep at three in the afternoon in a pay-by-the-hour motel. He manages to sleep until Sam calls him, and Dean hurriedly explains himself before grabbing some food and getting back on the road.

Sam is pissed that Dean hadn't told him what was going on, but ultimately supportive. Jess, Sam's girlfriend, even joins in on encouraging Dean, yelling, “you go, girl!” down the phone.

Dean figures, after about twenty-eight hours in total in the Impala, that if he does turn up and Gabriel doesn't want him there, it's okay. He'll go back to Sam, lick his wounds until he's ready to try the 'relationship' thing again.

He won't let himself consider the possibility that Gabriel will want him to stay.

* * *

 

He hasn't been this focused on a drive since the journey up to Bobby's.

This journey, however, is a lot longer, and Dean sleeps early one morning in the backseat with another five hours to go.

Dean knows that he'd be able to do it, and get there today, but he hasn't showered in days and has barely slept in thirty-six hours.

He catches six hours of disturbed sleep before clambering back into the front seat, and within five hours he's traveling streets he hasn't seen in months but that he still recognizes.

Dean spends the night getting heroically wasted in his motel room, trying to talk himself into doing this.

It feels great. He's doing something for himself, rather than because he's been ordered to.

It's liberating and scary, and Dean drinks until it isn't scary any more.

* * *

 

Dean wakes up at eleven, fights off the hangover, and makes himself look presentable. Then, he sits on his bed and refuses to let himself start drinking again.

Dean's not chicken. He knows he'll do it. Except, every time he even thinks about seeing Gabriel again, he gets a clenching feeling in his stomach that he hasn't experienced since he was a teenager.

He considers calling Sam for a pep talk, but then remembers that when Sam isn't being complete bitch, he's being pathetically enthusiastic about things, just like when he was a kid. Dean doesn't know which one will piss him off more right now, but he’s guessing that both will do the job.

He walks out of the motel room at half three, wearing a plaid shirt and his least ripped jeans, and chooses to walk to Just Desserts.

The town is just the same as he'd left it, and it amazes him that everything can be so different now, yet everything is identical to how it had been before.

There's a breeze, but sunlight falls in stripes along the sidewalk, and Dean inhales shakily as his feet carry him to the only person- bar his family- he's ever come back to.

The familiar smell of fudge overwhelms Dean as he steps into the shop, the room dim compared to the bright sunlight outside.

“Dean?” a deep voice asks. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Hey, Cas.” Dean says, grinning despite how he thinks he's having heart palpitations. “Sorry. Family business.”

Cas gets up from behind the counter and strides towards Dean, pulling him into a hug. Dean is taken aback, and pats Castiel on the back awkwardly before stepping away.

“We can reunite in a minute,” Dean says, looking around the quiet shop. “Where's Gabriel?”

“He's in the kitchen,” Cas says, frowning. Dean pushes past him. “Not that you can go in there.” he calls as Dean strides away. “Not that you've ever paid attention to boundaries like that.” he mutters as Dean pushes through the metal door.

The blond man doesn't look up as he hears the door open and close again. “Cas, can you put an order out for-”

“Gabriel.” Dean says, and it feels like he's being strangled from the inside.

Gabriel turns, and Dean's trapped in his stare. Gabriel's not smiling. In fact, he looks downright hostile. Dean feels naked under Gabriel's piercing gaze, and his body seizes, hands clenching into fists.

The moment feels like it carries on for much longer than it does, Dean waiting for Gabriel to react, do _anything_.

Gabriel smiles, and it should be a smirk, but it feels too genuine. “Heya, kiddo.”

Dean can only grin.

  



End file.
